


Comfort and Company

by Welcoming_Disaster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 08:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5659111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welcoming_Disaster/pseuds/Welcoming_Disaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is black magic. Jody would kill her if she knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort and Company

**Author's Note:**

> Very loosely inspired by a post on tumblr I saw with Cas being a force of nature after death. (link: http://daisy4days.tumblr.com/post/136781538560/consider-this-one-of-your-otp-leaving-the-other)

There’s a surprisingly large amount of things that work as an altar. Claire uses a yoga mat. Most of the herbs spread out in front of her come straight from the pantry, and the bones were easy to find on Ebay.  
She’s vaguely guilty every time that she does that, but she can’t help it. It could be worse, after all… She isn’t calling for a ghost. Her mother and father are together in Heaven. The Winchesters… well, she assumes that they are at peace. Somewhere. She isn’t selfish enough to drag them away from there.  
A dead angel, on the other hand. She doesn’t know the words to describe what that is. She’s had a brief glimpse of what an angel is, years ago. She’s never forgotten it. She has some understanding of what she calls forward. It’s… a force. Energy, maybe. Intensity. She doesn’t know if there is a consciousness there anymore, though. She doesn’t think Castiel would have cared about her doing this either way.  
She doesn’t even have to consult the paper for the chant anymore. The Enochian (she knows it to be somewhat bastardized and mangled, by some instinct that she pushes aside) rolls off her tongue as smoothly as English. This is black magic. Jody would kill her if she knew.  
She hears thunder. Lightning pierces the humid summer’s day. The first time, that scared her out of her mind. She doesn’t even twitch now. She keeps chanting, posture loose and relaxed. She has spread a picnic blanket around herself, and has a bowl of strawberries that Jody and Alex had picked yesterday. She had declined going with them. She thought they were relieved, really. They’re the family here. No matter what they tell her, she feels like an outsider. Better not to intrude. It doesn’t mean she isn’t going to enjoy the berries, though. There’s more than even Alex can eat, anyways.  
She finishes the chant and picks up a berry, taking a big bite. This is all she really wants from a picnic, anyways. The food doesn’t matter too much as long as she has company. And maybe it’s pathetic for a nineteen year old girl, but the company she is waiting for feels like all she has right now.  
And so she waits. There’s another bolt of lightning, and then the rumble of thunder. Angels bowling, Dad used to say. Dinosaurs walking in Heaven, Mom would joke. Ha. As if.  
Some kid she’s pretty sure she’s met before gives her a weird look from the sidewalk, and then hurries down the street. What a sight she must make, sitting in the parking lot with a picnic blanket and burning human bones. He probably thinks she’s high. Or a Satanist. Either way, she is only happy that he will not join her.  
She’s halfway through the bowl when she feels it. Claire, Mom would scold, you know better than that. You don’t start eating until everyone is seated. You say Grace first, darling.  
Sure. She’ll do that. Thanks for nothing, every single fucking asshole who art in Heaven.  
The presence she feels is weak, but familiar. She lets her guard down, dropping mental boundaries, lets it flood her in a way that she swore she never would. Doesn’t matter. She’s still in control. The day is humid, the air hot enough that she could cook an egg on the sidewalk next to her.  
A single snowflake flutters down, and she catches it in her palm. It doesn’t melt. Not yet.  
She’s missed this. She wants to… She wants to feel loved. She wants to think that there’s a single… thing out there that gives a fuck. She knows Jody cares, of course, in her own way. She isn’t Alex, though. She’ll never be Jody’s family in the same way, and she doesn’t know why. Or maybe she does, and just doesn’t want to admit it. It doesn’t matter either way.  
She’s probably fooling herself. Never seemed like Castiel cared what happened to her before, why should he now? This is easy, though. An easy company. An easy comfort. She lets herself have it, closes her eyes and hangs her head. She feels bigger than herself. Important. The juice from the berry dribbles down her chin. Maybe she’ll be a hunter. Or the president. Or maybe she’ll kill herself tomorrow. Right now, she feels like she can do anything.  
The thunder recedes. She is alone once more, angelic grace ringing in her ears and dark magic pulsing through her veins.


End file.
